


What If You Wonder

by Diana_Prallon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Art, Canon Compliant, Drama, Episode: s01e12 To Kill the King, F/F, Family Drama, Fic, Gen, Manip, Multiple choice future, POV Female Character, Photoshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16143749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Prallon/pseuds/Diana_Prallon
Summary: What Morgana needed to do was something simple: choose.





	What If You Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks all the wonderful mods that keep running this fest. <3
> 
> The title comes from a bit of the lyrics to the song "What If", from the If/Then musical.

 

> _“Will considered what to do. When you choose one way out of many, all the ways you don't take are snuffed out like candles, as if they'd never existed. At the moment all Will's choices existed at once. But to keep them all in existence meant doing nothing. He had to choose, after all.” (Pullman, Phillip - The Amber Spyglass)_

 

 

**I.**

What they needed was something simple: a choice. She could help them, or she could not, but for once the actions were hers alone, the decision was hers alone. It was not a simple thing, though, deciding — and it might be harder than anyone could imagine. She _loved_ Uther. She did not _want_ to, but she loved him in spite of herself. For so long, he had been the only stable thing in her world, him and Gwen — and now… He had broken the girl’s family, as he once had broken Morgana’s. And then — she knew what she had to do. She could not simply allow him to keep breaking families apart, breaking the land apart, in a hatred he dared to call love.

She could put a stop to it, now. She knew Arthur well enough to know he would be fair, even if he held a lot of Uther’s prejudices. The Pendragons might never forgive her if they knew — but it didn’t matter if it made Albion safe from hate.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**II.**

What they needed was something simple: a choice. She could help them, or she could not, but for once the actions were hers alone, the decision was hers alone. It was not a simple thing, though, deciding — and it might be harder than anyone could imagine. She _loved_ Uther. She did not _want_ to, but she loved him in spite of herself. For so long, he had been the only stable thing in her world, him and Gwen — and now… He had broken the girl’s family, as he once had broken Morgana’s. But then — if she allowed herself to do the same, to take from Arthur what Uther had taken from her and from Gwen, how would she be different from him?

She could put a stop to it now, and Arthur would grow to be a fair and just king, like Uther had never been. But if she did, she would lose a piece of herself, and what would she become?

 

* * *

 

 

 

**III.**

What they needed was something simple: a choice. She could help them, or she could not, but for once the actions were hers alone, the decision was hers alone. It was not a simple thing, though, deciding — and it might be harder than anyone could imagine. She _loved_ Uther. She did not _want_ to, but she loved him in spite of herself. For so long, he had been the only stable thing in her world, him and Gwen — and now… Now he was no longer the person that had welcomed her into Camelot. Every week his sanity seemed to slip further and further away, and he felt pride and joy in the killing of innocents, in the slaughter of children.

Hadn’t she just saved a boy from his grip? How many had she failed to save? Could she live with the knowledge that their lives could have been spared, if only she had made sure that Arthur would come to his power all the sooner?

What was the life of one, compared to the life of hundreds?

It should not be so easy to want to kill a king.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**IV.**

What they needed was something simple: a choice. She could help them, or she could not, but for once the actions were hers alone, the decision was hers alone. It was not a simple thing, though, deciding — and it might be harder than anyone could imagine. She _loved_ Uther. She did not _want_ to, but she loved him in spite of herself. But even love has limits, even love can’t forgive everything, and he had shown precious little love for her lately. Love was not love if it meant shackles instead of freedom, that she knew. She was but a pretty thing Uther kept for his own amusement, to be bought away with sweet words.

She despised him as much as she loved him.

It didn’t matter. It would be over soon.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**V.**

What they needed was something simple: a choice. She could help them, or she could not, but for once the actions were hers alone, the decision was hers alone. It was not a simple thing, though, deciding — and it might be harder than anyone could imagine. She _loved_ Uther. Letting go of it enough to wish him dead — to act on this wish — was to let something in herself freeze forever. The guilt of it would eat away her skin, her life. It would make her bitter, the secret churning inside her, pulling her apart from everyone else, Arthur, Merlin, Gwen — and she could not stand anything that would pull her apart from Gwen.

What would her maid say if she knew about it?

Would she ever forgive Morgana for it?

Would she forgive herself?

Morgana sighed.

If only she could simply _feel_ nothing, she would never have put herself in such situation.

 

* * *

 

**VI.**

What they needed was something simple: a choice. She could help them, or she could not, but for once the actions were hers alone, the decision was hers alone. It was not a simple thing, though, deciding — and it might be harder than anyone could imagine. Morgana did not know that she could trust these men, men who were so quick to violence, so ready to murder. What was to say she wasn’t to be their next victim? She would have to be quick and ready, it was a good thing she had kept her skills sharp.

No secret could be kept when more than a person was alive to keep it, and Morgana was going to make sure that no one could trace the death of the king back to her — no. She would be a poor, hapless victim, coming home crying with blood spilt in the defence of her king — too little, too late, like all Uther’s words always were.

She could trust no one, but she _could_ bring justice.

* * *

 

 

**VII.**

What they needed was something simple: a choice. She could help them, or she could not, but for once the actions were hers alone, the decision was hers alone. The luxury of choice was not one she was normally given, not when it really mattered. Still, choosing meant taking responsibility, and, worse, _blame_.

She had had enough of shackles, she had had enough of prisons. Uther had done it — he had broken something inside her that could not be put back together… And, of course, he was going to have to pay for it.

Death was so strong, so _final_. Not sweet enough for the likes of Uther. Not for a man that made a travesty of love, dressing cruelty and abuse in the clothing of caring and respect.

No, Morgana would not help killing him.

He did not deserve such mercy.

 

 

* * *

 

**VIII.**

What they needed was something simple: a choice. She could help them, or she could not, but for once the actions were hers alone, the decision was hers alone…

Or, were they?

Uther, the men on the trail, it was all the same.

They did not care what she wanted, they cared how she could advance their own wishes.

Men cared nothing for the wills of women, their lives or their pain. They just kept running towards their own desires, pretending that they were doing something to please or help them, just to make themselves feel better about it.

No, this was not about her — it was about Uther, it was about Tom, and it was about politics, and it was about men being men and caring _nothing_ for the women around them.

Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming disgust for all of them — the vendors and the farmers, the knights and the artisans, the physicians and nobles, all of them so certain that the world would go as they wanted, and that women would do nothing but obey.

Not her.

Not anymore.

They needed a choice, she would make one, and no man was to hold her back, hold her down or hold her close.

Morgana twirled in her heels, marching back to her chambers, surprising Gwen.

“Pack our bags,” she told the other woman as soon as she walked in.

“Are we travelling?” Gwen asked, looking confused, and pained, and so, so lonely that Morgana couldn’t help but to want to gather Gwen in her arms and keep her safe, close.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, knowing she sounded like Arthur and not caring — sometimes, it was a good thing.

“You know I do, my lady,” she held the maid’s hands in her own, squeezing her fingers.

“Pack our bags, Gwen. Don’t leave any valuable behind.”

“Where are we going?”

Before answering, Morgana pulled Gwen close, kissing her hair and basking in her warmth.

“Free, Gwen,” she muttered against the sun-kissed skin that she ached to caress. “We’re going free.”


End file.
